The first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson as Kieran and Julian slipped through the city streets, their cloaks drawn tight against the morning chill. The journey to the capital was treacherous, but the old cathedral held the answers they desperately needed.

Julian shot Kieran a sidelong glance. “Last chance to change your mind, my lord.”

Kieran’s jaw tightened. “I’m not turning back.”

Julian sighed, though a flicker of admiration crossed his face. “Figures.”

The road ahead was long, winding through dense forests and abandoned villages. Shadows lurked between the trees, and Kieran couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even Julian, usually unfazed, kept a hand near his blade.

As night fell, they stopped in a secluded glade to rest. Julian set up a small fire, the warm glow flickering against his sharp features. Kieran watched as Julian methodically checked his weapons, fingers moving with practiced ease.

“You’re always on guard,” Kieran murmured.

Julian didn’t look up. “Comes with the job.”

Kieran hesitated before asking, “What were you before this?”

Julian smirked, tossing a small dagger into the dirt beside him. “A survivor.”

Silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. Kieran lay back against a tree, gazing up at the canopy above. He should have been afraid—of Julian, of what lay ahead—but instead, there was a strange comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone in this.

A rustle in the underbrush snapped them both to attention. Julian was on his feet in an instant, blade drawn. Kieran followed suit, heart pounding.

Then, from the darkness, a voice slithered through the trees. “Going somewhere, little noble?”

Kieran’s blood ran cold. The hunt had already begun.

To be continued...